


A Prayer to an Angel

by small_blue_owl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cold, Cold-Blooded Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Manipulation, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Holy Water, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, I hope, I was cold while writing this, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Praying Crowley (Good Omens), The End Is Fluffy, Very Breifly - Freeform, and so is Gabriel - Freeform, on the part of gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/small_blue_owl/pseuds/small_blue_owl
Summary: Gabriel thinks that he can show Aziraphale the error in his ways by eliminating the demon that's been tempting him.Things do not quite go as planned.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been working on this for a bit and it fought me for a while. I hope it's presentable now. This idea would not leave me alone so here we are. I intended it to be more fluffy than it is, but apparently, I am incapable of NOT writing angst. Anyway. Hope you enjoy

**…~*~…**

Memories and places are often very tightly linked. Returning to places that had significance in the past will drag memories to the surface of our conscience that we would otherwise not have remembered. They will often take us by surprise, and we remember them far more vividly than we thought we were capable of. They can bring a smile to our faces as we fondly think on the past, or they can haunt us at every turn, presenting us with things that we had hoped to forget but never quite succeeded. Every aspect of the place will cause those unnervingly specific memories to rise again and dismissing them is often a vain effort.

It was certainly a vain effort for Crowley as he tried not to recall all the questions asked, all the judgments delivered, all the heartless beings who called themselves angels, all the overwhelmingly horrible memories that had taken place within these blindingly white walls.

He never thought he’d be back here.

Now the floor sent a dull burn through every part of him that touched it and blessed ropes bit into his wrists. The hard glass floor made a bright sound as Gabriel walked across it in that falsely cheery way that gave the impression that he owned the place. He now stood before the demon who was specifically not looking up.

“You believed you could tempt an angel?” The archangel’s tone was disbelieving and demeaning all at once. Crowley opened his mouth to say something but shut it again as he realized that the truth would be even more outrageous.

“It seems,” continued Gabriel in that same, belittling tone, “that Aziraphale can’t see the error of his ways. He has been so corrupted by your evil influence that he has strayed from all things good and holy.”

The demon scowled. Aziraphale had never once in six thousand years strayed from being good. Good was far more complex than holy but trying to explain that to an archangel would be a death wish. Crowley stayed silent.

“We will attempt to intervene and save him from your vile corruption.” Crowley dared not look up. Partially because the violet gaze was almost painful to his eyes and partially because he knew if he did, there would be nothing to stop him from wiping that smug smile off of Gabriel’s face.

“If we were to just remove you from his life, he would be a good angel again,” said Gabriel, the tone of his voice making the subtext clear. “He wouldn’t have to Fall. It’s for the Greater Good, you know,” he added with a superior air.

Crowley could hear the false smile in his voice. He shuddered at the distain with which Gabriel had said “remove”. As though the demon was just an inanimate obstacle whose only purpose was to be kicked out of the way. His life didn’t matter to the archangel at all, or if it did, it was only so he could use it to toy with Aziraphale’s emotions until he was obedient again. Crowley knew that the angel would try to come to his defense, only to incriminate himself further. They would force the angel to choose. The angel had distanced himself from Upstairs, but it wasn’t really…official. Crowley didn’t know which would be worse; losing Aziraphale to Heaven forever or being the cause of Aziraphale’s Fall. If the angel chose Heaven, Crowley would die; whether at the hands of angels or of a broken heart, it didn’t much matter. But if Aziraphale chose to _officially_ break ties with Heaven… He was terrified that the angel would make a rash decision without knowing the full consequences and Gabriel would cast him out. But the worst part was that Gabriel was so confident that Aziraphale would choose Heaven.

And maybe he was right.

Gabriel had been chipping away at the angel’s self-esteem for much longer than Crowley had been rebuilding it. The angels had been belittling Aziraphale for thousands of years and he had _believed_ them. Crowley found it infuriating that Aziraphale couldn’t stand up for himself. And even more infuriating was the fact that Gabriel used it to his advantage. Going to Heaven in Aziraphale’s place had shown him the side of Heaven that he had always known was there but never seen first-hand.

Crowley’s gaze was still fixed to the floor. He wished so much that he could protect Aziraphale from these icy beings that called themselves angels. The thought that he was being used as yet another tool to force Aziraphale to comply to Gabriel’s wishes made him sick.

“You have nothing to say?” Gabriel’s voice was sharp and sour.

There were so many things Crowley wanted to say. _Don’t you dare hurt my angel. Don’t you dare make him Fall. He is so much better than all of you. You’re worse than any of my lot. You’re supposed to be kind, you’re supposed to be forgiving; what happened to that? You have no right…_

Very slowly, he raised his eyes. He didn’t quite trust himself not to say what he was thinking. Staring straight at the archangel’s purple eyes, he shook his head. A slight waft of disappointment crossed the Gabriel’s face.

“We will collect you later,” he said briskly. Without another word, he turned and clicked across the floor. A doorway had opened in one of the walls and no sooner had the archangel walked through it then it seamlessly disappeared, becoming a flat, glowing, white wall again.

Crowley let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He had time. Time to think, to plan, to strategize. He didn’t know how much, but some was better than none at all.

Gabriel had given him time.

He paused. Such incredible mercy made him suspicious. He could feel himself tensing in fearful anticipation. He knew there would be something but had no idea what that something would be. Deep down, he was terrified of what Heaven could do, but he knew he couldn’t let his terror fog his mind.

He had time. He just had to think.

He shivered.

Why was Upstairs always so cold?

He focused, working out what he would do if Gabriel came back. Another shiver shook him for a moment. He hadn’t remembered it being this cold earlier.

It hadn’t gotten…colder…had it?

But it had. And it was.

The bright white room was slowly getting colder. There was no cold draft like there would be if a window had been left open, it was more of a sinking cold that filled the room from everywhere and nowhere in particular.

This was no minor inconvenience to Crowley, and he knew it. He tried to cling to the little heat he had, knowing he wasn’t able to generate more on his own. He didn’t have much time. He could feel the cold seeping into his skin, stealing warmth, leaving him unable to move.

His mind was beginning to fog over.

Slowly, and completely on instinct, his entire body was slowing down, despite his best efforts to stay awake. He couldn’t fall asleep now. He would be defenseless, entirely at Gabriel’s mercy, which, he realized with a sinking feeling, was exactly what the archangel wanted.

The temperature continued to steadily drop.

Crowley tried to fight his instincts, but his mind and body were shutting down, completely out of his control.

It wasn’t fair. They should at least give him a chance. But then again, when had Heaven ever been fair?

Crowley knew time was running out. There wasn’t enough to make a plan. He would have had to think fast, and his mind was moving incredibly slow. With the last of his consciousness that hadn’t completely slipped into oblivion, Crowley did something he hadn’t done in millennia.

He didn’t know if demons could pray but he didn’t care. It was worth a try. He knew that neither Satan nor God cared enough about him anymore, so he prayed to the only being who did. He folded his hands as best he could, the blessed ropes still burning his wrists, and prayed to his beloved angel, Aziraphale.

**…~*~…**


	2. Chapter 2

**…~*~…**

The day was foggy and cold, perfect weather for sitting in a comfortable chair with a good book, which was precisely what Aziraphale was doing. Mist hung over the streets and the headlights of cars cut solid beams of light through it. It wasn’t raining but there was water in the air, almost as though the rain had decided to fall in slow motion.

Crowley had gone out to his flat to check on his plants almost an hour ago and should be back soon.

Aziraphale hadn’t started to worry yet. It was only when another hour passed with no sign of the demon that Aziraphale began to get nervous. He was barely reading anymore, glancing up at any sound or step on the street outside.

The door of the bookshop opened abruptly, and Aziraphale looked up, expecting to see Crowley saunter into the room.

But he did a double take on the being in the doorway, who was decidedly _not_ Crowley.

“Gabriel!” said Aziraphale, trying his best to look pleased, and setting down his book, “What a surprise.”

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” said Gabriel in the tone of someone who wasn’t just saying the words but making a point as well. The archangel gave a forced smile and folded his hands. “Aziraphale,” he began in a business-like tone, “You know how much Heaven values you as our only agent on Earth.”

Aziraphale nodded vaguely, trying to understand where Gabriel was going with this. It troubled him the way Gabriel used “Heaven” and “our”. Gabriel was acting as though nothing happened. As though the trial had never happened. Aziraphale thought it had been clear. At least what Crowley told him had been clear. He thought the trial gave Upstairs the understanding that he didn’t belong to Heaven anymore. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“But” Gabriel continued, his tone tinted with reprimand, “you have let yourself be led astray, Aziraphale.”

The angel felt a blush rising to his cheeks although he knew he shouldn’t be ashamed. He had chosen this; he had chosen to break ties with Upstairs. Then why did he still feel as though they could have control over him again? There was something about those purple eyes that had always intimidated him and now was no exception. He had thought this would be easier.

Gabriel could see Aziraphale assuming his usual obedient attitude again, like a flower closing in the cold.

Aziraphale attempted a smile. “I thought…well, you see… the last time we spoke,” the angel stammered, “it seemed that…well…I was…”

But his attempted reply died there as he caught sight of the demeaning look that Gabriel was giving him, eyebrows raised, hands folded, as if daring him to go on. When he did not, the archangel smiled pointedly without his eyes.

They were falling into their old pattern again.

“You are so valuable to the Heavenly army that we thought it would be best of you joined our ranks again.”

The offer would have been kind had it not been for that edge in his purple gaze. Aziraphale knew the offer was a test. If he said yes, he would have passed. If he said no, he had no idea what Gabriel would do.

 _He doesn’t control you_ he kept telling himself. _You shouldn’t be afraid of him._ But for some reason, he felt as though he couldn’t refuse. It was still terrifying to say no to an archangel. He wasn’t sure that he could.

“Oh,” he said softly, “I see. But…” He tried not to let his courage falter. “I am not sure…that…that I want to,” he stammered out before he lost his nerve.

Gabriel laughed without a shred of humor. “Yes, you do, Aziraphale,” he said with icy warmth, “You just can’t think for yourself.”

A wave of confusion crossed Aziraphale’s face.

“You’ve been corrupted,” explained Gabriel, “Which is why we have removed that thing so that you can see the error of your ways.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Thing?” asked Aziraphale, a slight edge to his voice.

Gabriel nodded as though he wasn’t sure where the angel didn’t understand. “That cursed creature that has been corrupting you for millennia. We’ve removed it.”

The words hit Aziraphale like a leaden weight.

They had taken Crowley. They had harmed his beloved demon.

Terror and fury and sadness flooded his heart as he glared at the archangel before him. Gabriel flinched very slightly at the shift on Aziraphale’s face, making sure not to lose his cool.

“What have you done to him?” demanded Aziraphale in a voice he had no idea could come from his mouth.

Gabriel took a step back. “We’ve eliminated it so you can return to your rightful place. It’s for your own good, Aziraphale. The Greater Good, in fact.”

Aziraphale could feel the fury bubbling in his chest. “Don’t talk to me about the Greater Good,” he spat, his voice suddenly very bitter.

Something washed over him in an effervescent wave.

A shiver shot through him, though he was not cold. There was something hovering all around him. It stirred something in his basic angelic nature; the desire to heal, to help, to save. There was a ringing in his ears. He focused, trying to understand what was going on.

Then he heard it.

It was so faint that he could barely make it out. A whisper, a plea…

“Angel…”

A prayer.

Aziraphale’s throat tightened and his vision blurred for a moment. “Crowley,” he whispered. He tried to concentrate on where the voice was coming from but couldn’t find it. It seemed to be surrounding him, pouring down from above him.

Above him. Suddenly it clicked.

Aziraphale locked eyes with Gabriel and watched as the archangel’s composure and cool began to disintegrate and something that might have been fear replaced it. Aziraphale hoped it was. Then, shutting his eyes, he willed himself to Heaven.

**…~*~…**


	3. Chapter 3

**…~*~…**

Once, Aziraphale had thought these walls welcoming. He had considered this place home. But as the years went on, this place slowly filled with unpleasant memories and words, the echoes of which never really went away. He didn’t have the same feeling about this place as he did thousands of years ago. It had gone from a place of beauty and love and warmth to a place of unnatural perfection and bitterness masked with smiles.

The light was blinding at first and his eyes took a moment to adjust. A small door was cut into the wall in front of him that seemed vaguely familiar though at the time, he did not know why.

He slowly turned the handle and it clicked as it opened.

A wave of cold air struck him as he crossed the threshold. It was not a cold wind but rather a wall of cold air that settled around him in a suffocating shroud.

The room was uniformly, brilliantly white. Familiar in a strange way that he couldn’t quite understand. He felt as though he had been there before but had no recollection of why.

There was something black on the floor in the far corner, contrasting sharply with all the bright light. Aziraphale felt a chill pass over his heart that was not the fault of the cold.

Crowley.

The angel half ran across the room, dropping to his knees beside the demon, calling his name. Crowley didn’t stir. He lay crumpled on the floor, pale and still. His wrists were bound, and from the awful burns that they left, Aziraphale knew they weren’t ordinary restraints. They had been blessed. Aziraphale gently placed a hand on Crowley’s cheek but withdrew it suddenly.

He was so, so cold. A dangerous, lifeless cold that made the angel’s heart beat like a trapped bird.

Very carefully, he gathered Crowley into his arms, trying to dissipate the unearthly chill that held him captive. Aziraphale made a choked little sound as he saw the burns that covered the demon. He had been lying on the blessed floor of Heaven for too long.

Aziraphale had to get him out of there. His arms tightened around Crowley as he shut his eyes, and miracled them both to the bookshop.

He opened his eyes.

White light still filled the room.

Nothing had happened.

Aziraphale’s heart sank. Of course. Gabriel had made this room immune to miracles so that Crowley couldn’t get out. He realized with a twinge of dismay that this meant that he couldn’t heal Crowley either. He would have to get them both out of the room first, but the door had disappeared into the blank, white wall.

Aziraphale could feel the panic start to set in. He knew that Crowley would be destroyed if he stayed in Heaven for too long, but he had no idea how long he had been there already. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours.

He tried to think of what Crowley would say but his mind was too panicked to think clearly. Crowley would have been calm and composed. He would have known what to do. A tear found its way down his cheek as he gazed at the cold, lifeless demon in his arms.

There was a click of a lock slipping out of place, and Aziraphale raised his head. A thin, dark line emerged on the wall, slowly morphing into a rectangle as the door opened. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene in front of him. He had expected an alliance, he had not expected love. Aziraphale’s crimes doubled in magnitude in Gabriel’s eyes. Not only was the angel consorting with the enemy, he was _in love._ Unacceptable. Disgusting.

“Get away from that vile creature, Aziraphale,” ordered the archangel in a threatening voice.

In response, Aziraphale folded Crowley closer to his heart. “No,” he said. He was surprised that his voice did not reflect a trace of the panic that was wreaking havoc in his mind.

Gabriel took a menacing step forward with something quite unangelic in his eyes but paused as Aziraphale manifested his wings, curling them protectively around the demon in his arms in a radiant, protective shroud. Gabriel decided to switch tactics.

“Aziraphale,” he began with a pitying smile, “Are you so far gone you can’t even tell what’s good for you? Don’t you want to fight the forces of evil in the world?”

For a moment, silence fell. Then Aziraphale slowly nodded. “Yes,” he said his voice soft yet stern. Gabriel smiled to himself.

“But” continued Aziraphale, “I do not think joining your side again will further that goal. Just because you are an archangel, doesn’t make you good. In the same way that being a demon does not automatically make Crowley bad. It is much more complex than that.”

Aziraphale spoke as though he was thinking it through himself for the first time, which indeed he was. Something had been made clear to him that he’d never known before. Things had begun to make sense, although he was unsure as to where these revelations were coming from. This was quite threatening to Gabriel who knew that in order to keep Aziraphale obedient, he shouldn’t be able to think for himself. He masked his discomfort with extreme surprise.

“Are you questioning the order of the universe, Aziraphale?”

It was a threat and Aziraphale knew it. He would Fall if he answered this wrong. It was baffling to him why knowing the truth caused one to be cast out. It didn’t make any sense. Why should happiness only be reserved for those who mindlessly believe?

“No,” he said after some minutes, “I’m only making an observation.”

There was a soft little sound beneath his wings, and Aziraphale looked down. Crowley drew a ragged breath, his eyes still closed. He tried to wrap his arms around the angel but the ropes on his wrists prevented it. He winced and leaned against Aziraphale.

“Angel…” he whispered.

Aziraphale nearly cried with relief. “It’s alright, dear,” he said in what he hoped was a comforting voice but shook too much to be confident, “I’m going to take you home.”

Gabriel scoffed. “You are going to leave that demon here,” he said menacingly, “to be dealt with,” he added as though dealt with was synonymous with destroyed. Before Aziraphale had time to react, the archangel stepped forward and roughly pulled Crowley from his arms, letting him fall to the floor.

He regretted it an instant later. A flash of even brighter light filled the room as Aziraphale’s wings swept out beside him. Gabriel backed up, trying desperately to keep his composure. Intimidation had always worked in the past to control Aziraphale, but something had changed between them. If this had been any other time, Aziraphale would have cowered and tried his hardest not to make Gabriel any more angry, but this was different.

Aziraphale seemed to tower above him, his wings extending to the edges of the room, his eyes bright with a celestial wrath. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but it was far more terrifying than if he had yelled.

“You will not harm him,” commanded the angel in that threateningly soft voice. He took a step towards Gabriel who jumped back, colliding with the wall. He knew Aziraphale could never see him scared. Once Aziraphale found that Gabriel was frightened of him, the angel would be free of him forever.

Gabriel felt the wall give behind him as the little door swung open. Desperate, he reached into his pocket, his fingers closing around a tiny vial reminding him what he had come there for. He backed away from the door, slowly and carefully taking the vial from his pocket.

He watched as Aziraphale tenderly lifted Crowley in his arms again. Gabriel’s eyes burned with a dark glow vaguely reminiscent of something evil although of course it couldn’t have been. Archangels do not glory in the pain of others. Only demons do that.

Aziraphale crossed the threshold, his wings glowing even brighter than the walls.

Gabriel hurled the tiny vial though the air expertly aimed at the demon.

Aziraphale’s wings swept through the air with a sound not unlike a large piece of fabric in the breeze.

The vial didn’t waver in its course despite the disruption in the air.

Then, in a fraction of a second, its target disappeared, and it fell harmlessly to the floor.

It shattered, the deadly liquid spreading across the floor and around the shards of glass, where the angel and the demon had once stood. The only evidence that anyone had been there was a strange sort of shimmering texture in the atmosphere, as though tiny shock waves were traveling through it.

In an antique bookshop in Soho London, the air shimmered and an angel and a demon appeared.

**…~*~…**


	4. Chapter 4

**…~*~…**

Tiny particles of dust floated through the air, illuminated by a shaft of light cutting across the room. The silence was almost deafening. Everything felt at peace here in a way Heaven should have but never quite did.

This was home.

The angel carefully sat on the sofa. His heart was still racing, and his breath had a hitch to it. _You’re ok,_ he kept telling himself, _Crowley’s alive. You’re alive. It’s ok._

Slowly, the peace of the bookshop began to calm him. His gaze dropped to the demon in his arms, whose face was no longer drawn and hurt but peaceful and happy. The oppressive cold had begun to subside. Aziraphale leaned down and placed a tiny kiss on his forehead and set about healing him as best he could. With a wave of his hand, he miracled away the holy restraints that bound Crowley and the demon caught his breath. Then, very gently, Aziraphale ran his fingers over Crowley’s wrists, the burns fading with the angel’s touch. Another miracle soothed the burns from the floor of Heaven and Crowley sighed softly, leaning closer, cherishing the angelic warmth that surrounded them both. The cold was beginning to thaw in Aziraphale’s presence. Crowley could feel the kindness and love surrounding him, bringing warmth where there had been cold for so, so long. Bringing warmth and love to him in ways he was sure he didn’t deserve. It was practically too good to be true.

Crowley opened his eyes to make sure this wasn’t a cruel dream and found the angel’s soft blue eyes gazing down at him. It was almost too much; all this love pouring over him.

“Angel?” His voice was ragged and broken.

“Yes, my love?”

Crowley shut his eyes again and snuggled closer, burying his face in the angel’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he managed in a faltering whisper.

It was so quiet that it would have been inaudible had they not been so close. Aziraphale’s heart ached and he suddenly felt as if he might cry.

“Of course, my dear. I will always answer your prayers.”

Crowley looked up suddenly. “You…you heard me?” he asked softly.

Aziraphale nodded and pressed another kiss to his forehead. “Any time you are in trouble or need my help, I will always answer. I will come to you no matter how far away I am.”

Crowley rested his head over the angel’s heart. “I’d like it better if…if you were never far away,” he admitted, quietly, “Would you…just…stay? With me?”

Aziraphale could hear the cracks of doubt in the demon’s voice. There was something very tender and delicate and vulnerable about the way Crowley asked it, as though he was genuinely concerned that he wasn’t enough of a reason for the angel to stay. Aziraphale was prepared to spend the next eternity proving to him that he was.

“Always, my love,” he replied, “Always.”

**…~*~…**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you made it to the end, I am proud of you. Sorry it was so long. Kudos and comments make my day :)


End file.
